


Steve Rogers : American Knuckle

by CarburetorCastiel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Arguing, Boxer!Steve, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018, Domestic, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, I had to learn a lot about boxing, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sports, Sports Violence, Stucky - Freeform, a bummer at times but a hopeful end, all my previous boxing knowledge came from Rocky and Raging Bull, babies first big bang, nurse!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-19 05:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarburetorCastiel/pseuds/CarburetorCastiel
Summary: Steve Rogers, the American Knuckle, was a champion. A heavyweight powerhouse, a force to be reckoned with, a dodger with a stinging right hook. At least he used to be. But all reigns have to come to an end. And boxing titles pass on to the next up-and-comer. Out with the old, in with the new - a sort of sports Darwinism that no one can escape forever. It's time for him to find a new life and let his days of fighting be a thing of the past. His future is about Bucky now. And about the life they can have together. He just has a hard time remembering that.Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018. Artist: BuckBarners





	Steve Rogers : American Knuckle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buckbarners](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckbarners/gifts).



> (Notice: The pictures are smaller to help the flow on mobile reading. Please click the links below to see the art and aesthetic board better.)
> 
> First Art Link: [Boxer!Steve/Nurse!Bucky by Gabe](https://78.media.tumblr.com/56ee161741407702ce2acda3893b9423/tumblr_p9xoucpVBs1snayoeo1_540.jpg)  
> Scene Art Link: [Match Scene by Gabe](https://78.media.tumblr.com/03bd6c1ff8e10e7564631bdd8a3f8655/tumblr_p9xoucpVBs1snayoeo3_r1_540.jpg)  
> Aesthetic Link: [Boxer!Steve/Nurse!Bucky by CarburetorCastiel](https://78.media.tumblr.com/c36344a50f94b6c8a52252b4237e38a9/tumblr_p9xoucpVBs1snayoeo2_540.jpg)  
> The artist is Gabe (BuckBarners) on [tumblr](https://buckbarners.tumblr.com/) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckbarners/pseuds/buckbarners).
> 
> This is dedicated to Gabe for being an amazing artist for the big bang and for being so patient with me while it took forever for me to actually get this written after I scrapped the entire initial draft to redo it. Thank you so much!
> 
> Also a shout-out to artgroves, an artist, author, and RBB mod who is literally so kind and helpful and answered every one of my questions even when they were ridiculous.  
> And another shout out to my buddy G for beta-ing for me even though I kept saying how much I thought I could have done so much better with this and wanted to cry.

Original Art by BuckBarners

Scene Art by BuckBarners 

Board by CarburetorCastiel

\--- 

The worst part for Steve was hearing the cheers and shouts from fans of his opponents. They always roared in excitement every time he was socked in the jaw or the chest or the gut. He still had fans, of course, but they were getting increasingly outnumbered by fans of the new guys, the younger guys, the next champions. And hearing how much they loved to see him get his ass kicked was the biggest blow to his morale. 

The worst part for Bucky was seeing Steve's tattered and bloody mess of a face. Every cut, scrape, bruise, gash, black eye, broken nose, swollen lip made his heart sink low as it could. He hated seeing Steve in pain. And as much as Steve liked to say that he was perfectly fine, he could do this all day, there was no reason to worry, Bucky still felt like he was made to live out some obscene torture in watching him lose match after match. 

It wasn't like this when they first met. Steve was still a champion, holding a title for five years strong at the time. His matches were fun for Bucky to attend. He got to watch Steve do what he was passionate about and win. He always won. Sure, he would still get bloodied up pretty good, but it wasn't for nothing. Only rarely did he ever lose a match – possibly because he wasn't on his game that day or was exhausted for other reasons, or a previous injury was acting up. 

But then he stopped winning. After a rough title bout with a boxer who called himself 'Crossbones', Steve was practically finished. The new boxer, Rumlow, used all his efforts to take the title from Steve and managed to land him in the hospital for a few weeks. When he returned to the ring, he wasn't ever really the same. Steve's former natural strength and vigor seemed to have disappeared. He was still strong and a formidable opponent. But something in him had cracked and he started losing more matches than he won. Nowadays, it was roughly a forty-percent chance that he would win against one of the young snot-nosed new-comers with that wild animal look in their eyes. 

This match was no different. They were already in the fifth round and it wasn't looking good. Steve was covered in sweat and blood. Bucky figured one or two more nasty swipes and Steve would be down. And he knew that look. Steve was so tired. If he got knocked out, he wasn't getting up. 

Bucky walked over to Steve's ringside team and nudged one of the assistants. "Hey, tell him I went home. Call me if this gets... you know, if he gets seriously injured, okay?" The assistant promised they would and Bucky turned to quickly head out of the stadium. He needed to be gone. He needed to get home. He couldn't watch anymore today. 

\--- 

 _Four Years Ago_  

 

"I can't believe I'm laying here in a hospital bed with my guts all spread out and my limbs broken and you're hitting on the hot nurse." 

Steve turned to look back at Clint and he sighed. "First of all, pal. Your guts are fine. And you only have one broken arm. It's not that bad," he said and helped Clint grab his water from the side table. His friend had been in a minor car crash and broken his left arm and got a nice set of scrapes on his face and hands. But other than that, he was perfectly okay. And he was already back to being his dopey self so Steve figured any initial stress and adrenaline had ebbed away. 

"I'm with Steve on this one, Clint. I think you're okay enough for us to be distracted. I mean, did you see the thighs on that guy?" Natasha added and let out a low huff. "If I wasn't already way into that adorable teacher at the New School, I might bump her for that guy." She shot them both a quick sharp look and added, "I'm kidding, by the way. That's a joke. Don't you dare tell Maddie I said that. I don't want to jeopardize my second date with her." 

"Of course, not," Steve agreed, entirely preoccupied just staring out the door and down the hall. The man, James, was the single most attractive person Steve had ever laid eyes on – at least to him, he was. He had deep brown hair pulled back in a ponytail that looked like it used to be tight, but the stress of the workday had loosened it up. His eyes were a striking green that flashed every time they looked at Steve. And, god, those lips. They were plump and red and looked so soft. And they pointed so carefully in the corners that even his frowns looked handsome. 

Steve mumbled something to Clint about checking with the nurse about when he could go home, and then he was out the door. He wanted to talk to this man some more. And even though he was using this as an excuse, he figured he wouldn't see James ever again so having another quick conversation or two would be permissible so he could look at those eyes some more. 

He made his way down the hall to the nurses' station and waited patiently for James to be done with his phone call. Steve smiled at him and said, a little tentatively, "You're 'James', right? That's what you said? Or do you go by 'Jimmy'?" 

James smiled softly back and shook his head. "Some of the doctors call me 'Jimmy' but I really don't prefer that. 'James' is what most people say. And I have a nickname from my middle name, but using that is a privilege that few have." 

Steve nodded. He cleared his throat and folded his hands on the counter. "Well, James," he started. "I'm Clint's roommate and emergency contact. I mean, you know this already, you saw his paperwork." He was rambling a little, his words not taking their time to leave his mouth calmly. "I just wanted to know when he would be able to head home. If it isn't today, I'll have to call my trainers to let them know I won't be there tomorrow. I still need to call his work to let them know what happened. I should do that soon." He stopped and looked back to James with eyebrows slightly cocked up. 

"Sure, of course. More than likely, you will be able to take him home in a few hours. We are waiting on a few things to come back. We just want to make sure he doesn't have a concussion before we send him off," James said and made a note on an unseen chart in the computer. "Trainers for what?" he added as he sent some documents to the printer and waited. 

"Oh, uh, I'm a boxer," Steve said firmly, standing a little straighter and puffing out his chest to show himself off. "I do the sport professionally. So, I have a training team that I meet with just about daily." 

James let out a short hum of acknowledgment that Steve really couldn't decipher the meaning of. He came back with his freshly printed papers and sat down in the swivel chair. "I don't know anything about boxing. Except for my limited knowledge of Rocky Balboa and Muhammad Ali. And one of them is fictional, so." He looked back through Clint's information to his emergency contact and said, "Steve Rogers. Forgot your name, sorry." He chuckled to himself and added, "Or maybe it should be 'Rocky Rogers', huh?" 

Steve's heart pounded a little harder in his chest after hearing James' laugh. It was amazing and bright and he felt the overwhelming need to hear it all the time now. "Yeah, uh, I guess so. It certainly flows better than 'Muhammad Rogers'. Or 'Sugar Ray Rogers'. Although, now that I say that, it does sound pretty cool." He bit his lip and smiled down at James. "By the way, Rocky Balboa is named after Rocky Marciano who was a boxer from Massachusetts – a real tough heavyweight who often gets overlooked. So, now you know about another one. You can add him to the list." 

\--- 

Since then, Bucky cut his hair pretty short, quit working the ER, and got a job at a clinic. He also moved into a fancy condo with Steve, got a cat, and spent years watching Steve box – both as a champion and then as a loser, even though he hated using that word for Steve. 

He was nervous like usual. All he could do was wait at home for Steve to get back or for him to receive a phone call that he needed to come to the hospital. Nowadays, it was hard to tell which would happen. But Bucky busied himself by cleaning up the condo and playing with their cat. He watched the news and made himself some dinner. And, eventually, Steve slumped his way back in through the door. 

Steve was standing there with his head drooped down so Bucky wouldn't immediately see his face. He had a nice shiner on his eye and some gashes here and there. He cleaned himself up as much as he could before coming home. But he hadn't showered yet. He always preferred showering at home to showering in the locker room. "Hey, Baby," he said quietly and dumped his bag on the ground by their shoes. 

"Should I even ask how it went?" Bucky walked over to him and tilted his chin up so he could get a better look. He wasn't as bad as he could have been. But he wasn't fine either. He slipped his hand with Steve's and lead him through their bedroom and to the bath. He sighed quietly and reached to pull Steve's shirt up and over his head. He had bruises down his side. That was normal too. 

Steve watched Bucky intently as he carefully pulled his sweatpants down and then his briefs. Steve hated that he upset Bucky by coming home all hurt, but he did love having Bucky undress him so slowly like this. "I won," he whispered and nodded when Bucky gave him a questioning look about it. "I did. We went the distance, twelve rounds, and they gave it to me." 

"Doesn't mean your poor handsome face was spared at all," Bucky countered quickly and gave Steve the gentlest kiss he could. He pulled away then and took off his own clothes and went to turn on the shower. "Don't get me wrong, I am happy you won." 

"I know you are. I know. Don't worry," Steve cut in quickly. He didn't want to have a conversation about this right now. He couldn't count how many times Bucky had asked him to consider retiring from boxing. Bucky wanted him to stop and find a new line of work. Or become a coach or take a break for a while. But this was all Steve knew. He couldn't just quit. 

Steve followed Bucky into the shower and immediately wrapped his big arms securely around him just to hold him for a minute. He let out a long content sigh and kissed Bucky's head anywhere he could as the water gushed over them both.  

These were always the best times. Their quiet times alone. So much of Steve's time was spent with his team just training and working nonstop. It was a bunch of people yelling at him to work harder, do better, be stronger. And Bucky spent his days handling large handfuls of patients. Some of them were really mean too. It was surprising how rude people were willing to be to nurses who have the big needles and scalpels. But finally being alone, cured all that annoyance and stress from their days. 

"I love you," Steve whispered and turned Bucky around to give him a kiss. "You know you're my world, right?" 

Bucky nodded and rested his head on Steve's chest. "I know. I love you too." He just hated his career nowadays. "Sorry for leaving during the match. I couldn't keep watching." 

"It's okay, Baby," Steve said. He was used to it by now. Bucky hadn't been staying through to the end for about a year now. He got too overwhelmed and nervous and needed to go. Steve was fine with it. "But I did win today. So that is something." 

"That is something," Bucky agreed with a smile and grabbed the soap. He ran his hand down Steve's chest and then his arms, cautiously working down Steve's body to clean him up. He was also assessing any damage – checking for tender spots, pinning any cuts he would need to put bandages on, kissing his tattoos as he came across them. 

After several more minutes of standing together under the water, Bucky finally pulled the two of them out. "Come on, Steve. I got to get you all fixed up then we can sleep," he said and wrapped up in a towel before pulling his medic box from under the sink. He had six first-aid kits of varying sizes in their home. This was a relatively small one. He pulled out some medicine for the pain and several large band-aids. "Sit, please." 

Steve obediently sat on the edge of the tub and pulled back his towel to reveal his chest and stomach. He was pretty quiet while Bucky patched up his skin with square band-aids and steri-strips. But when Bucky was working on his face, he gave a small smile and said, "Hey, Buck, how about we go out for dinner tomorrow? You can come meet me at the gym after you're done with work. We can go to that fancy place with the crab rangoon you love so much. We can have some wine, get a little drunk. Come home and watch a movie. How's that sound?" He stopped Bucky's hand for a second so he would pay attention and answer him. 

"Yeah, Babe, of course, we can have a date night," Bucky agreed with a soft happy smile that reached up to his eyes – which was always a good way to tell if he was smiling to be polite or because he was actually pleased. "I'll wear something nice so pack a good shirt in your bag." 

There was a loud meow behind them and the cat came trotting into the bathroom and to sit next to Steve on the edge of the tub. She rubbed her head on his arm and purred. "Hey, someone's needy today. That's not usual, huh?" he asked and scratched behind her ears. "One day, it's all angry biting and wanting us to leave you alone; and the next day, you want all eyes on you and lots of love. What gives?" 

Bucky laughed and kissed the top of Steve's head before putting all his things back into his pack. "Yeah, she's been this way since I got home," he said as he put his towel back up on the hook. "Finish drying off, Babe. I'm going to get you some water so you can take this medicine." He counted out the pills of ibuprofen and walked naked through the house to grab one of Steve's many giant water bottles. 

He came back to Steve already under the covers in bed and tiredly flicking through the messages on his phone. There were several congratulatory texts about the fight and a few texts from his team about the plan for the next day. But he set the phone down again when Bucky got back. "Thank you, Bucky," he said warmly and took the water and the pills from him. He swallowed them down then pulled the blankets back so Bucky could join him in bed. "Come here, I want to cuddle you." 

"I'm right here," Bucky giggled and slipped in beside Steve. He tangled their legs together and placed a careful hand on Steve's chest. "You're still deadly handsome even with a bruised eye," he added and gave him a few more kisses to his lips and his cheeks. "You're always so sexy. You know that though. But, damn, you're like a mountain of a person." 

Steve whined in the back of his throat and slipped his hands down around Bucky's back to cup on his ass. "I think you are way beyond more attractive than me. You have got such a hold on me. And I love every second of it." 

\--- 

 _Three_ _Years Ago_  

 

The announcers at each match seemed to always know what to say to get the crowd riled up and ready for a fight. It was a bunch of nonsensical hype and cheers and things like that. Bucky still wasn't entirely used to it. It felt pretty strange to sit ringside with Steve's team and hear shouts of praise and support for his boyfriend bubbling around the stadium. It was kind of hard to grasp that all these people adored Steve and knew his career so well. Not that Bucky didn't love that Steve was popular, but he wasn't used to how excited boxing fans could get. 

"Coming from the Northwest corner, we have our reigning champion!" The announcement rang out from the speakers in a booming voice. "He is known by many names," The voice continued in the typical hyperbolic tone of a sportscaster who had spent too many years doing this job. "'The Fist of Uncle Sam', 'Red White and Bruise', 'Gentleman Liberty', 'Stars and Swipes'!" He paused and muttered in a humored aside, "We didn't say all the names were good ones, huh? -- Here he is now, our champion, Steve Rogers, the American Knuckle!" 

The crowd erupted like it always did. People stood and cheered and anyone close enough tried to get their hands on Steve as he strode down the aisle. It was all a grand pomp and circumstance in the fashion of a modern Colosseum. And the banners and posters and t-shirts advertising their love of the American Knuckle turned most of the stadium red, white, and blue. Apparently, Bucky was learning, everyone loved an all-American icon; as trite as that might sound. 

\--- 

Steve had been gearing up for a fight with his current biggest adversary, a large Norwegian man named Thor. This fight was set a few weeks ago and, ever since then, he had been working his ass off to get ready. He was going to beat him. He could feel it with every fiber of his being. 

Except that, none of that was true. Steve wanted to believe that he could defeat him. He kept saying how confident he was. He told his team and his friends and Bucky that there was no way in hell that Thor would come out of this the winner.  

But while Steve had been training, he had also been watching Thor's matches since the last time they faced off. And Thor had gotten a lot better. Steve might have won the last fight but he was quickly losing faith in his abilities after every new video he studied. Thor's form had improved, his evasive maneuvers had definitely improved, the usual self-righteous cockiness that weighed him down before was gone – replaced by a cool-headed dumb humor that must have been a new act to help keep him in check. And his hair was short - but that was inconsequential. Thor was different. He was ready to fight and win and advance. He was younger and stronger and fresher now. He was on his path towards a champion title. And Steve wouldn't be able to stop him. 

By the time Bucky got home from work, Steve was still a moping wreck. He was now almost completely sure he couldn't beat Thor and it was affecting him more than he would have liked. Bucky found him laying like a lump on the couch with the cat on his legs, both of them staring at the wall. 

"Hey, Babe..." Bucky started cautiously and came to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Why do you look so sad right now?" he asked and touched his hand to Steve's cheeks and his forehead, thinking that maybe he was feeling sick. The flu was really going around so it wouldn't surprise him. 

Steve shrugged and slowly sat up. He pulled Bucky in for a hug and just let himself get some comfort from holding him. "I'm just a little down," he said quietly and hoisted Bucky up into his lap. "I don't think I can..." He stopped. He didn't want to admit this out loud but he also wanted to talk about it. "I don’t think I can beat him," he said finally, looking into Bucky's concerned eyes and feeling like he was going to fall apart right there on the couch. 

"You don't think you can beat Thor?" Bucky clarified. "What makes you think you can't? You've been so confident about this for weeks." He gave Steve a little kiss on his lips and ran his fingers through his short choppy hair. 

There was a beat of silence and then the click and rush of the air conditioner popping back on again. Most of the lights were off in the house. Steve had wanted to be in the dark for a bit. There was only the lamp and the light from the kitchen getting to them. "I've been watching his recent fights from the last few months. He's gotten so much better. He stands more firmly, he's calmer, he dodges quicker. He went up against a couple different strong southpaws with erratic hooks and he barely got touched. He's better than me now." 

"Oh, okay, okay..." Bucky said hurriedly and brought Steve in tighter in his arms. "Maybe he's improved but does that necessarily mean he's better than you now? Because the last fight you had with him, you won fairly easily, I think. You were pretty evenly matched, I would say." 

"We were evenly matched then. Now, I feel like I have no hope in this," Steve countered. "If I would have fought some of the guys he fought, I know I would have lost. But he just takes them out now. He's got three TKOs, which he's never had before, and several early knock-outs. He hasn't let but a few guys go the distance and only lost a couple because of skill points anyway. He's amazing for what he used to be." 

Bucky wasn't sure how to help. He didn't even want Steve fighting Thor anyway. And Steve knew that. They had argued about it weeks ago. Bucky thought Thor's jabs were way too strong for Steve. Any time Steve got hit too rough, he was down for a bit. It was only Steve's stubborn will to win that made him get back up every time even though Bucky could see on his face just how much it hurt. "Okay, well maybe this is good," he offered gently. "Maybe you can pull out of the match. This could be a sign. Right? This could be a sign telling you to stop." 

Steve tensed up immediately. He didn't like whenever Bucky mentioned him quitting. They had had this argument several times before already. He wasn't about to retire. He didn't want to quit. And not having Bucky's support about this hurt a lot. "Bucky, no," he warned. "Please don't get into that again." 

"Babe, please just listen to me," Bucky pleaded and tucked his hands in Steve's shirt. "If you think you can't beat him, maybe you need to pull out of this match. Because you've said it yourself that Thor is on a warpath to the title. So, he's been training nonstop or something. Who knows. But he is a new kid to the sport in comparison. You've been doing this for over a decade. He's been around for three years – which is about as long as it took you to get your first belt. And you held on for seven years after that but eventually... it ends." 

The look on Steve's face was heart-breaking. He looked angry and sad and hopeless and confused and worried – nothing good. He gently moved Bucky off of him and got up from the couch. "I know it ends, Bucky. Don't you think I know that by now, huh? I lost my title two years ago. It broke me. You know how hard it's been since then. I've worked constantly, trying to get back on top. And I can't. I just can't." He sighed and reached up to pull his hair for a second out of stress. "But I keep trying. I've been trying for so long, dammit. I can't give up. This is what I do, Bucky. And I think that if I can just get a stride going again, then I will be able to reclaim the title and stay for a while longer before having to be done. I'm not finished yet." 

Bucky stood up too. He reached for Steve's hand for a second and then pulled his phone out and found an article. "I know you've seen the news – about Brock Rumlow," he started and found the picture in the article about Rumlow being in the hospital after a fight gone horribly wrong. "He came to my old ER a few days ago, Steve. The pictures in the article are tough to look at but here." He handed him the phone to show him Rumlow's roughly beaten body and swollen face. He was laying in the hospital bed with his wife in a chair next to him. He looked like hell. "He's the reason you lost your title. But, you would have lost it anyway. Everyone stops winning eventually. Rumlow lost – in a really big way. Okay? He's finished. He's not jumping back in." Bucky took his phone back and added, "Baby, I don't want your last fight to be like his. I want you to retire from your sport with your head up, ready for a new challenge and possibility in life. Not stuck to a hospital bed eating your food in liquids." 

Steve was quiet. He didn't like seeing Rumlow like that. As much as he disliked him, he didn't think anyone deserved that bad of a beat-down. As much as he wished he could have challenged him again, he knew that could never happen now. He closed his eyes for a few moments and whispered, "You're right, that was hard to look at." Sighing, he shook his head and went to the kitchen for something to drink and a snack. He didn't want to think about this anymore right now. 

\--- 

 _Two Years Ago_  

 

The loss hit Steve hard. He was in the hospital for roughly a week and a half. But the real trouble started once he was back home. He wanted nothing more than to be able to go back to the gym and train. He was angry, furious. But he was holding out hope that he could challenge Crossbones to a rematch and fix all this mess. He thought he just had a bad fight. It was a blip in his career, not the end of it. 

It took a hard talk from one of his medics for him to finally realize that he was sitting out for a while. It also finally occurred to him that this loss was final. There was no chance of a challenge or rematch or some sort of appeal or anything. He had lost. He wasn't a champion anymore. His seven-year streak had ended. 

After that, it was just one long nap for him for a few weeks. He moved from the couch to the bed and then back again day in and day out. He watched any movie they had in their boxes and tried to perfect his skills at making paper airplanes from fan letters. Any other time, he would have felt honored to read those notes and be astonished that anyone thought he was worth it to write to. But now it all felt empty to him. He felt like he had let all of those fans down as well as himself.  

Bucky was about the only thing that could make him smile. And even then, it wasn't often. But he loved Bucky and Bucky loved him. So, during tough times like this, he leaned on him heavily for support and Bucky provided. But it was hard on Bucky too, especially when Steve got better and was ready to jump back into it. 

Steve's coaches were anticipating that after Steve had his mourning period and his body recovered, he would want to come back with full force and get back on track. They were ready too. The team had a new plan for him, a sort of come-back kid approach. They hadn't given up on him and plenty of Steve's supporters hadn't given up on him either. 

Except that Bucky had hoped Steve would have given up on this now. Not that he wanted Steve to give up his career and his dream for no reason. He felt like Steve had done everything he could in his decade in the sport. He also felt like this loss was so bad for Steve that another one this big later would crush him even more. He didn't want him ending up with any worse physical injuries or more emotionally distressed. 

"Steve, I'm just saying that I think it's better to quit while you are still able to make the choice for yourself," Bucky said tiredly, worn out from this argument. He looked at the time. They had been going at this for roughly an hour now. 

One of the kitchen lights was flickering and it was driving Steve mad. He kept glancing at it every few moments and kind of wanting to reach up and unscrew it for now. It was just making this conversation more intolerable. "Think of what you're asking me to do. You're asking me to quit my entire career - the only thing I've ever felt good at – and just find something else? I can't do that. I have no other real-world skills, I don’t have higher than a high school education, and I am not going to sit in an office all day bored out of my mind." 

"I didn't say you should work in an office!" Bucky countered. At this point, the conversation had cycled around about four times and they were just repeating everything that had been said before just louder and harsher now. "You could do anything. You have money and you’ve worked with charities to set up donations before. You could do that full-time. Start a non-profit or a shelter or a charity. You'd get to help people. That's something you would love to do." 

Steve shook his head, confused. "Why can't I just keep doing what I do now then? I can still continue my charity work and setting up fundraisers while boxing. The only reason why I'm able to help raise that money is because of who I am. I don't know how many of my fans would still donate to causes I support after I'm just Steve Rogers and not the American Knuckle. You know?" 

Scoffing and taking an angry bit of his bagel, Bucky mumbled, "Yeah, but the American Knuckle isn't anything without Steve Rogers." 

Steve felt like that was quite the opposite. He felt like he was nothing without the American Knuckle. He was his title, his role, his acclaim. The American Knuckle took him from being a dummy kid with a dream into being a champion fighter doing some good for people and causes he always wanted to help but couldn’t before. "I can't know what I will be if I'm not him. You don't understand. I don't want to go back to being a useless kid who no one thought would amount to anything." 

"But you did amount to something! Steve, oh, my god! You were something before, trust me. But, being a boxer and being a champion and being the damn American Knuckle is what you 'amounted to', if you need to label it that way. Anyone who doubted you knows differently now. I know you wanted to prove yourself and do some good and you did! Anything you do now can't change what you've been. Letting go of boxing won't turn you into something lesser like you think it will." 

"I know I did what I wanted to do, but I'm not done," Steve protested again. "I can get back on top. I can keep going. One bad fall like this can't ruin me, right? I had a seven-year title. I can get it back. I don't want to stop. I don't want to just get a dumb job and be sad and wait out my boring life wishing I could do what I actually love to do." 

Bucky grunted indignantly again and crossed his arms. "Your boring life, huh? So, your life means absolutely nothing without boxing. Is that it?" he asked, getting angrier than before now. "And what about me? What about the family we have talked about starting but haven't yet because our lives have revolved around your sports schedule and how hectic it is. And how dangerous, too. Can't you take this loss as an opportunity to retire gracefully, handing the belt down to a new, younger fighter? And then settle down with me? Get our first kid? Maybe get married? Have the family we both want?" 

Steve didn't say anything. He knew Bucky was mad. And he regretted suggesting that his life would be boring without boxing. Because Bucky really was his entire life other than that. And he did want their family. He wanted to marry Bucky and have kids. But not yet. He still felt like he had more juice. "I'm still a young guy. I'm only thirty-two. I have more time." 

"That wasn't the point I was trying to make," Bucky said flatly. "Also, most guys leave the ring behind after thirty. You told me that yourself. And I don't want to be in our mid-forties when you finally decide to retire and have our first kid then. This is the time for that." He paused for a moment, waiting to see if Steve would answer. When he didn't yet, Bucky continued. "I talked to my parents. They said that we could move out to the farm. There is a guest house on the property. We can stay there for a while until we decide what to do and where to live. You can help take care of the animals and the gardens with my dad. Maybe my mom could teach you to ride horses. It would be a great place to spend a year or so getting ourselves ready for a kid. Applying to agencies, finding a house, finding you a job or something, planning a wedding..." 

Steve was still quiet. He was too burned out right now to answer. Part of him wanted to continue to argue, but part of him thought all that actually sounded really amazing as an interim home between phases in their lives. But he didn't want to make the decision right now. 

Bucky put his plate in the washer and gave Steve a forlorn glance. "Consider that option. Please," he said and headed to the bedroom to be alone for a bit. 

\--- 

There was no real stopping Steve once he decided to go ahead with the fight against Thor. He promised Bucky he would be safe, but that wasn't really a promise. He always tried his best to be safe, but things just happened. It was dangerous and volatile sort of sport. 

"Jesus, my word, you guys seen his latest results?" Sam asked, glancing at Clint and Natasha who had both joined him in supporting Steve at the stadium. "This guy's KO tally went way up since his last bout with Steve. They should start calling him the 'Norwegian Knockout' or something." 

Natasha shook her head. "No, because having the American Knuckle against the Norwegian Knockout just sounds like a turf war at the UN or something." 

"What is his persona, by the way?" Clint asked, not seeing any signs around the stadium saying any other name for him except 'Thor'. 

"Looks like it's just 'Thor'. He doesn’t have a nickname or anything," Sam answered. He had been flicking through articles and stats on his phone for a while now trying to learn about Steve's opponent. 

Bucky came back from the bathroom then and scooted in next to Sam. He wasn't sitting with Steve's ring team this time. He didn't want this fight to happen and he was dreading it and didn't want to be here. But he was supporting Steve. But he really needed to be with their friends tonight. "Hey, big crowd," he observed and pulled his jacket tighter around him. He wasn't cold. But the jacket was Steve's. It was pretty big on him so it was comfy and warm. Bucky wore it a lot when he was stressed or worried. It didn't smell like Steve anymore because the last time Steve wore it was about three years ago. After that, Bucky kind of claimed it in the name of comfort. 

"Yeah, I guess Thor's got a pretty big following now," Sam said and wrapped an arm around Bucky in a side hug for a moment because he knew he was freaking out. "It'll be alright, man. Steve's tough. Even if he loses, he'll be fine." 

Bucky really wasn’t so sure about that. But Sam spoke with such confidence all the time that it was kind of hard not to believe everything he said. "Sure, yeah, okay..." He nodded, trying to get himself to look as confident as Sam did, but all that came out was a grimace. 

The fight started ten minutes later. The announcer gave the usual pep in his introductions as both fighters came in. He called the fight a rematch long in the making with an old champion looking for redemption and new blood looking for his next big break. Bucky didn't entirely love that description but it seemed to strike a chord with the rest of the stadium of people and they erupted. 

From the moment that Steve was in the ring with Thor, Bucky was on the edge of his seat. He could feel somewhere in his soul that this was going to be a hell of a fight. He wasn't sure who would win. On one hand, Thor had seemed to improve a whole lot with recent training, but on the other, Steve was still a stubborn persistent man who wouldn’t just lie down and let himself be defeated. 

Steve was playing aggressive today. He made the first move, pushing in swiftly with a right hook that seemed to catch Thor off guard. But he gave his response quickly with a fast, sharp jab to Steve's side. And he didn't give him a second's pause before swinging around with another to the face. 

There was a collective wince and "Ooh..." from the crowd as Steve staggered back. He remained on his feet, though, which was a great sign. But it wasn't until the end of the round that he got another hit in on Thor. 

Both contestants went to their corners and their coaches wiped their faces and gave them water. Steve's coach said hurriedly, "Listen, son, it's only round two and you've hit him three times only. Step it up or you're finished." 

Rounds two through five came and went just about the same as the first. Steve got a handful of contacts on him. But the rest were all doled out by Thor. He was much quicker on his feet than he used to be and he was getting better at steadied himself and evading. It was almost impossible to get him to stay put for a second so Steve could even try to get him. 

At round eight, Steve was losing strength. His left eye was swelling already and his lip was split and bloody. His shirt was red down the front and damp from sweat. He was nearing the end of his rope and everyone could tell. Thor, on the other hand, was barely panting. He was sweaty, sure, but there was no major blood or cuts or bruises on him. He seemed to hardly be phased.  

Bucky noticed Thor's coach whispering something in close to his ear and Thor gave a definite nod. Coaches always talked to the contenders between rounds but this one gave Bucky a bad feeling in his gut. The look on Thor's face had changed. It went from that amused, happy-to-be-here glimmer to a tighter, darker stare. The first eight rounds were just play. Now he was getting to business. 

Round nine started with three quick jabs to Steve's ribs, right under one of his tattoos, followed by a right hook to his jaw again. He was relentless. He wasn't giving Steve any time to think, let alone fight back. Steve hated the thought of losing with a TKO so he managed to evade backwards and slip far enough away from Thor to get a breather. He glanced at the ref out of the corner of his eye as he backed off. He had been ready to come in and call a technical. Steve shook his head to show he wasn't done. He was fine. It was more for himself than anyone. 

But his belief that he was capable to stand his ground didn't really mean much. Because once Thor got back to him, he was right to the punches again. And in moments, Steve was down. He hit the tarp and felt a rush of cold run through him from his head to his toes. His chest was heaving up and down with the strain of breathing and it was hard to see through the glaze of sweat trying to get in his eyes. The ref pounced over and started the countdown.  

 _One_. Steve's head was screaming at him to get back up but his body was begging him not to. 

 _Two._  He couldn't help but think about his loss to Crossbones and how he had been trying to get solace after that fight for two years. 

 _Three._ Steve felt like this was his only chance and he needed to beat Thor otherwise he would never get back on top. 

 _Four._  On shaky arms and legs, he tried pushed himself back into a kneeling position. 

 _Five._ He looked up for a moment and saw Bucky sitting there, his eyes wide and his mouth parted open. 

 _Six._ They wanted a family – kids and a dog and a tire swing hanging from a tree.  

 _Seven._ What kind of life would it be to keep this up and retire from an injury only to never get to play with his kids because of the pain? 

 _Eight._ He had done what he wanted to with his career – he held a champion title for seven years, for god's sake. 

 _Nine._ Bucky was much more important than trying to reclaim some old glory from a chapter in his life that ended two whole years ago. 

Steve dropped back down on the tarp, collapsing on himself and letting in a deep breath. This was his decision now. He was finished. 

 _Ten._  

\--- 

 _One Year Ago_  

 

"I think naming a kid after your mom would be a great idea," Bucky agreed. He pet his hand through Steve's hair and hummed softly. "Does that mean I can have the name 'Kylie' now?" 

Steve scoffed and squeezed Bucky's leg. They were laying on the couch together. It was well past midnight but neither of them really wanted to sleep. A friend of theirs had just had a baby that evening and now babies were the only thing they could talk about. "No, you can't have the name 'Kylie'. I hate that name." 

"Oh, come on. It's good. A little baby 'Kylie'. It works for a girl or boy," Bucky reasoned again. 

"Well, you know I don't care what babies have what names. We can name a boy 'Sarah', it's no problem to me. I just don't like the name 'Kylie'," Steve said and gave him a little look. 

Bucky shook his head and wrote it on their list anyway. "Whatever, I'm keeping it in the running. You might change your mind." 

"Will you change your mind on 'Brandon'?" Steve asked, giving him a cheeky smirk. 

Bucky thought for a moment and then wrote 'Brandon' back on the list. "I'm only adding it because I want to keep mine going." 

"Fair enough, Baby." 

\--- 

The decision to retire was incredibly difficult for Steve. Even after they went home from his last match and he told Bucky he was ready to be done, he still questioned it for a few weeks. He went back and forth every so often but always landed back on his final decision to call it a wrap.  

There was more support from people than he thought there would be. His coaches and his team all wished him well and made him promise to stay in touch. His fans sent him off with the promise that his legacy really would continue on and that he had earned his rightful place in boxing history. 

His friends helped them pack up all their stuff and get ready to move. The guest house was pretty much fully-furnished so they donated a lot of their bigger furniture so the move would be a lot smoother and they wouldn’t have to put anything in storage. And before they knew it, they were headed off to Indiana to Bucky's parents' farm. 

Their new house was bigger than their condo and it had a full kitchen and a view of the gardens and fields behind them. The cat took a while to get used to the country and even longer to get used to the new dog they got. 

Steve took to gardening and horseback riding pretty quickly. He liked that it was physical and he wasn't ever bored like he anticipated. Bucky found a new job as a nurse at the hospital down the way and they started looking for houses and applying to adoption agencies. They felt like they could both start their most important job - becoming parents - as soon as they got a call about a child who was ready for them. 

Plenty of people still talked about Steve. They supported him even now and some young people called him their inspiration. He inspired them to start boxing or to work harder or to pursue their dreams or fight even when the odds were against them. And in his new phase in life, he could work harder to do more good for people and fight a new kind of fight with the causes and progress he believed in. It was just a bright new exciting addition to his legacy. 

Steve might have been retired now, but he would always be the American Knuckle. 


End file.
